


it's miserable and magical

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Since when do we accept morning drinks from enemy lines?” Nick asks flatly. The coffee cup has rolled toward his foot, and Nick stomps on it with his boot, grinning as the cup splits down the middle. </p>
<p>“Enemy lines. Please.” Matt shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic, Grimmy?”</p>
<p>“No.” His mobile has finally gone silent, but that’s no better. A quiet Louis Tomlinson is just a Louis Tomlinson who hasn’t figured out how to piss you off again yet. Nick’s figured this out over time. “Not at <i>all</i>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>OR - Nick is regular Nick on Radio1  but all of 1D are various DJ's and they all work together. And then Tomlinshaw happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's miserable and magical

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to checkthemargins for reading along with this while I was writing and being the best cheerleader ever. Thanks as always to jessypt for the amazing beta. You are the comma wrangler extraordinaire.
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from 22 By Taylor Swift which I was listening to in the car on the way home from work one night and decided I felt like writing Tomlinshaw again and this is what happened. Oops!

*

It’s just past six in the morning, and Nick is finishing his first cup of coffee when his mobile buzzes with a text. He checks the board and sees that he’s got another minute and a half before the new Beyonce song is over, so he queues up Drake to buy himself some extra time as he picks up his mobile and swipes his thumb over the face to turn it on.

_Morning, Grimshaw! How’s your ugly face doing today!_

Nick frowns at the screen and sighs. Fucking Louis. 

_Fine, fine_ Nick texts back. _Staying up late just to listen to my soothing voice? I’m flattered._

_Ha! Haha! As if. No no, just wondering how you enjoyed your coffee today ; )_

Nick blinks. _My what?_

_Your coffee. Was it gooooooood??_

Nick shrinks back into his chair and stares suspiciously at the empty cup. He can still taste the coffee on his tongue, is the thing, because it _was_ good this morning. Especially good for some reason. He’d thought that Matt finally remembered how Nick liked his coffee, but, well. Fuck. 

“Matt Fincham!” Nick shouts. _It was such a SPECIAL coffee, wasn’t it??_ flashes across Nick’s mobile, and he gasps, horrified at the string of winky faces Louis has sent along with the text. 

“You’ve only got about forty seconds left on Drake,” Finchy says as he sticks his head into the booth. “What?”

“This.” Nick pokes the empty cup with his finger, and it tips over, rolls onto the floor with an ominous, hollow thunk. “Where’d this come from?”

“Oh, that! Your coffee!” Matt beams. His cheeks are flushed pink and stupid. Nick groans and presses his fingers against his temples. Matt only gets that ridiculous look when it comes to one person, and really, Nick should have known, somehow. He and Louis had called a silent kind of truce about a month ago, and neither of them have bothered the other since. Nick should have known it was too good to last. 

“Niall brought it down,” Matt says cheerily. He’s practically fucking _beaming_. Nick wants to hit him over the head with a lamp. 

“Niall did, eh?” Nick groans and holds his finger up to quiet Matt as Drake fades out. He does his links as quick as he can and sets himself up for a few minutes of free time, gesturing for Matt to sit next to him by violently kicking a chair in Matt’s direction and flailing his arm between the two. Matt has the decency to look sheepish when he sits at least. Either that or he’s picturing Niall naked in his head again. Nick doesn’t actually want to know which.

“Since when do we accept morning drinks from enemy lines?” Nick asks flatly. The coffee cup has rolled toward his foot, and Nick stomps on it with his boot, grinning as the cup splits down the middle. 

“Enemy lines. Please.” Matt shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic, Grimmy?”

“No.” His mobile has finally gone silent, but that’s no better. A quiet Louis Tomlinson is just a Louis Tomlinson who hasn’t figured out how to piss you off again yet. Nick’s figured this out over time. “Not at _all_.”

Matt rolls his eyes and stands up to leave. Does _no one_ understand his pain here? He grabs his mobile and types frantically. 

_All right, come off it Tomlinson. Did you do something to my coffee or not._

Louis answers almost instantly. _Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. That’s for me to know and to never ever tell you._

“You know, Grimmy, the coffee was from Niall, not Louis,” Matt says. Nick waves him off. 

“If Niall brought the coffee down, and Louis started texting me about it, it was from Louis,” Nick insists. He hears the door to the booth creak open and then Liam’s low voice reminding Matt that Nick only has a few minutes left before he’s back on air. Nick looks up and glares. Even though Liam technically works for him he also helps out with Louis’ show when he’s in early, and that’s reason enough for Nick to decide he’s an enemy as well. 

“Did you know about this?” Nick asks sharply. Liam blinks wide, brown eyes at him, then glances to Matt and licks his lips. 

“Um. No?” Liam says, but it’s more of a question than anything else. “Yes? Did I know about what, actually?”

“Nick’s having a meltdown over a cup of coffee,” Matt says dryly. 

Liam grins, his smile wide and stupid. “Ah. So just a normal Tuesday morning then?”

And really, Nick hates them _all_. 

_Have a good day, mate! Hope you’re feeling well!_ Louis sends. 

Nick groans and drops his head into his hands. He doesn’t want to imagine what Louis did to his coffee. He doesn’t even think his brain is perverse enough to come up with the answer. 

“Really, Matt, is he all right?” Liam asks. Nick shakes his head back and forth. Matt at least has the decency to come back in and rub the back of Nick’s neck. After all, he could be _dying_ right now. 

“I could be _dying_ right now,” Nick announces. No one responds. “Neither of you care. You,” he lifts his head and points accusingly at Matt who’s barely looking in Nick’s direction, too busy taking over the board and trying to load something else in before Nick has dead air broadcasting all across London. “You don’t care at all, and _you_ ,” Nick says, leveling a glare at Liam. “You used to be nice. Quiet. Helpful.” Liam beams and nods. “What the fuck happened to you?” Nick snaps.

“Most likely just got used to you and your drama, Grimmy,” Matt says. 

“Most likely got to be friendly with _Tomlinson_ ,” Nick grumbles. 

Liam’s face lights up. “Oh, Tommo’s a great mate of mine! Top lad, yeah?”

“Oh, yes. He’s a peach. Wonderful person. Totally not an obnoxious twat at _all_ ,” Nick says as he stands up, puts his hand over the entire front of Liam’s face and pushes him out the door and into the hall. 

*

The funny part about it all is that Nick and Louis honestly have no real reason to come in contact with each other pretty much ever. Nick does the breakfast show and Louis does the overnight but there’s an entire two hour block in between both of their shows that should be enough time for their paths never to cross. 

If the world weren’t such a cruel place that’s what would happen. 

If the world weren’t such a cruel place Louis would leave the premises right after his show and give Nick ample time to get himself into the building and situated without ever showing Nick his smug little face. If the world weren’t such a cruel place Nick would only have to see Louis every other month at the station meeting, both of them sat on entirely opposite sides of the room from the other. 

If the world weren’t such a cruel place, the first time Big Boss Ben introduced Louis to Nick and made a comment about how Nick would be around to show him the ropes, Louis wouldn’t have responded with a sharp grin and the words, “Ah, that’s all right, I’ll be fine. I’ve heard Grimmy’s show before. Can’t be all that hard, can it?”

If the world weren’t such a cruel place Nick wouldn’t have tilted his eyes and fluttered his lashes at Louis and answered with, “Not hard at all, Princess. I’ll make sure to leave a phone book in the booth so you can reach all the dials on the sound board.”

If the world weren’t such a cruel place, those comments wouldn’t have sparked a three year prank war that neither of them are ever going to willingly give up. Nick knows he’s not, at least, and if there’s one thing he’s learned to respect about Louis after all this time it’s that he’s persistent, the fucker. 

If, if, if.

Nick finishes his show without any further messages from Louis, and nothing suspect ever happens. He doesn’t fall ill from the coffee; he doesn’t pass out. He’s not hallucinating as far as he knows, so really, just another mindfuck courtesy of Mr. Louis Tomlinson. 

Lovely. 

The late morning air is cold, and Nick zips his jacket up to the neck and burrows his chin under the collar to keep warm. He’s waiting for the car to get there to pick him up when his mobile buzzes and a-ha! There it is. Time for Louis to gloat some more. He fishes the mobile from his pocket and thumbs it on, but it’s a message from Harry, not Louis, and Nick smiles without consciously realizing what his face is doing. 

_Hiiiiiiii. Want to meet for lunch?_

Nick glances at the time. He really needs to get home and take Puppy out, but it’s early enough that he could possibly swing by and let her out and then still meet Harry somewhere before it gets too late. He knows Harry usually likes to be home and having a kip by four or five every day because he’s got the ten to midnight, but it could work. 

_I’ve got to stop home and let out Puppy. Want to meet in an hour?_

_How about I grab us some takeaway and just come to yours? Puppy can eat with us_

Nick sends Harry the cheeseburger and fries emoji as an answer, and Harry responds with the beer mug and a glass of wine. Nick adds the tempura prawn and the eggplant, and Harry answers with six question marks and a kissy face. Nick has no idea what that means Harry’s bringing for lunch, but he sends back the nail painting emoji and the smug moon and stuffs the mobile back into his pocket. 

*

Harry brings sushi, two bottles of wine, and a plush Captain America chew toy for Puppy. Nick holds the door open as Harry stumbles in with the bags, his hair long and curling over a bright green headscarf and a grey t-shirt that Nick thinks was actually his own at one point. 

“Hiya,” Harry says. He’s smiling brightly and somehow manages to hug Nick with the arm holding the two bottles of wine and the dog toy. He kisses Nick quickly on the cheek and shoves everything into his hands except for Puppy’s toy. Harry crouches down and scratches behind her ears and on the belly. “So how was your daaaaaaay?”

Nick rolls his eyes and scoffs. “As if you don’t already know.” He heads into the kitchen to set the sushi on the table and grab wine glasses from the cupboard. He hears Harry rustling around behind him, and when he turns to look, Harry’s stood in the doorway with Puppy draped over his shoulder, her nose pressed firmly into the curve of his neck. 

“Christ, you’re made my dog into a trollop,” Nick huffs. He snaps his fingers and whistles softly. “Puppy, come here. Come to Daddy.” Puppy barely looks in Nick’s direction, squints her eyes, and sneezes loudly. 

Harry laughs and pats her on the head. “She’s fine where she is, mate.” He grabs a chair and straddles it, wiggling his fingers in the air for a wine glass. “You’re just cross that your own dog likes me more than you.”

“That’s a lie,” Nick insists. He whistles softly for Puppy again, but she only closes her eyes and starts to snore on Harry’s shoulder. His mum was right; he definitely should have gotten a cat. “And anyway,” Nick adds in his most threatening voice, “I reckon I should be cross with you for loads of reasons today.”

“Really,” Harry says dryly. He’s filling his plate with sushi and barely looking in Nick’s direction. Nick seems to think there was a time when his threatening voice actually _did_ something. It must have actually threatened people at one point, right? He wouldn’t have deemed it his official threatening voice if it hadn’t. 

“Really,” Nick says firmly. 

“For what now?” Harry asks lightly. He’s chewing with his mouth open, long fingers fumbling with his chopsticks. “I’ve brought you food and wine. Your dog loves me. I’ve not spoken to Eileen in a while, but we all know she likes me best--”

“Please leave my mum out of this,” Nick whines. 

Harry laughs, loud and bright. Puppy snuffles in her sleep, growling softly and snuggling in closer to Harry’s neck and chest. “I’m only saying I’ve not done anything recently to have you be cross with me. I know I haven’t; I’ve checked.”

“All right, so perhaps it’s not _you_ exactly that I’m cross with.”

Harry drops his mouth open, chewed up sushi right there in Nick’s face. He’s ridiculously gross. Nick has no idea why he’s friends with him. 

“No,” Harry says and presses a hand against his chest, pretending to be shocked. He is honestly a complete and utter twat. “This is shocking news. Really.”

“All right, Harry,” Nick says patiently.

“No, I mean, Nick Grimshaw, _projecting_ his feelings for someone onto someone else.” He blinks his eyes innocently. Nick wants to punch him in the nose. “This is brand new information. I might make it my opening link on the show tonight.”

“Why am I even friends with you?” Nick sighs and stares up at the ceiling. He can hear Harry chuckling and sees him taking even more food and stuffing his stupid face with it. 

“Because you love me,” Harry says simply. Nick groans. His life would be so much easier if that wasn’t the case. “Anyway, I honestly don’t know what happened today though I’m sure something did by the way you’re carrying on.”

“It was your stupid friend again,” Nick grouses. He grabs the wine bottle and fills his glass. Harry might have to watch what he’s drinking because of work later on, but Nick’s done for the day. One of the perks of being the host for Breakfast means you can get pissed much earlier than all your friends. It also means you need to be in bed for the night by ten pm, but it’s a sacrifice Nick’s happy to make. “The short one.”

“Niall?” Harry teases and grins. Nick doesn’t know why Harry thinks he’s funny when he’s _very clearly_ not.

“No, the twatty one.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “It’s amazing to me the way you two act around each other, when if either of you would just stop being such a knob for like, three consecutive minutes you’d _actually_ get along.”

“Ha!” Nick bellows. He puts his glass down and grabs his stomach, pretending to laugh so hard he’s doubled over. Harry sighs and ignores him. Nick doesn’t mind; he’s used to it by now. “Ha ha ha.”

“I’m just saying it’s true. I don’t know why you two are such twats to each other. You’re both my best mates. It’d be nice if we could all be in the same room together for more than thirty seconds without one of you pissing the other off so badly that he leaves in a huff.”

Nick reaches over and pats Harry’s hand soothingly. Harry gives Nick what Nick is pretty sure Harry thinks is his best guilty look, but it doesn’t matter because it’s not going to work. Not on Nick, and not about Louis bloody Tomlinson. 

“Sorry, H,” Nick says, lips pressed into a firm line. “You know I love you, but that’s never going to happen.”

*

When Nick gets to work the next morning it’s to find the booth almost entirely full of people. There is nothing about this situation that makes him happy. Usually when he gets in at half five it’s to Matt fretting about and Liam trying to calmly talk him down from whatever panic he’s managed to rile himself up into. To find this many people all shoved into one tiny space where Nick is supposed to be sitting in less than thirty minutes is disconcerting to say the least. 

And then Nick spots him across the room, beaming white smile, sharp little teeth and all. 

Nick sighs. “Tomlinson,” he says tightly. 

Louis rocks back on his heels and grins. “Grimshaw.”

“Ahh, look who’s here!” Matt says, clapping his hands together loudly. He’s pink in the cheeks and flustered looking. Nick can tell by the way Matt’s very much _not_ looking in Niall’s direction that he’s quite aware of Niall’s presence. If not for being stared at for this long by Louis, Nick would find it all very funny. “Now that Nick’s in I think we can all get started,” Matt adds.

“Yaaaaaay,” Zayn says quietly. He looks ready to murder. “There’s about three minutes before I have to get back on air in time for Grimmy to start. Let’s get on with this, yeah?”

“Sorry, mate,” Nick says, clapping Zayn on the shoulder. “Though really, I’ve got no earthly idea what’s going on myself to be honest.”

Zayn shrugs. “No worries.”

“While this is all quite nice - full station bonding and getting to see Grimmy’s smiling face right before I head home for the day - can we please get started?” Louis asks. Nick glares in Louis’ direction. Louis catches Nick’s eye and beams, blowing a kiss and wiggling his fingers. 

“Yes, erm. Actually that might be a good idea,” Liam stammers. He steps in front of Louis and pats Niall on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper something into Niall’s ear. Niall looks up at Nick and laughs a bit, and _that’s_ not worrying at _all_.

“Have you heard something funny, Mr. Horan?” Nick asks. He twists the bracelets around his wrist a few times and tries to catch Matt’s eye to no avail. Nothing about this is making Nick feel any better. Matt very studiously won’t look in his direction, and Ian is staring completely past Nick’s face. Niall is laughing, Liam looks ready to pass out, and Louis is full on _beaming_ , his smile wider than Nick ever remembers seeing. In fact, the only one who looks unaffected is Zayn, who Nick is fairly sure has dozed off in his chair.

“All right,” Nick says, throwing his hands in that air. He needs answers, and he needs them now. “Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

 

*

Aimee literally can’t stop laughing. 

“Oh my god, I wish I could have been there to see your _face_ ,” she screeches, loud enough that the people at the table next to them drag their chairs a little closer to the wall in an effort to get away from her. 

Nick doesn’t blame them. Her face is as red as her hair from laughing so hard, and she’s actually _gasping_ for air. Nick wants to take his glass of water and dump it over her head. 

“What did you _say_?” she asks, and honestly, Nick should take some time on his afternoons off and try and find himself some new friends. One’s who aren’t terrible people would be a good start. 

“I said yes, of course,” Nick snaps. “What was I bloody well supposed to say?” 

Aimee laughs some more, but she at least has the decency to quiet herself down a bit. Nick sips his drink, and when the waiter comes back over he orders another bottle and a slice of the german chocolate cake. He’s been trying to eat healthier lately but fuck it. He’s had a rough day. 

“Um, tell them no?” Aimee says. She blinks her eyes at Nick and snickers. “That you’re not some piece of meat to be auctioned off to the highest bidder-- oh my god I’m sorry, I can’t even say it without laughing!”

“Its not an _auction_ , you twat. It’s a _raffle_.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Because that makes it perfectly normal and fine and not pathetic at _all_.”

Nick tosses his napkin at her head. Naturally the waiter chooses that exact moment to drop off Nick’s cake. Nick beams and waves, and the waiter bustles away. 

“Whatever,” Nick says, sliding his fork into the cake and breaking off a huge bite. “It’s for charity and the money the station raises will go to a good cause. So I wind up having to go on a date with the type of person who enters raffles to date fabulous morning show hosts. It could be worse, yeah?”

He’s kind of counting on Aimee to tell him that yes, it definitely could be worse. He chews his cake slowly. Aimee just sort of looks at him and stares. 

“I mean. Sure,” she says faintly. “Sure. Definitely.”

Aimee...doesn’t sound very sure at all. Nick sighs and keeps eating his cake. He’s just about to put the last forkful in his mouth when his mobile buzzes on the table, and Nick curses and groans. This is most definitely _not_ what he needs. 

_Are you sure finishing that cake is such a good idea? You know what they say. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips!_

Nick drops his fork, the last piece of cake falling off and rolling onto the table. Aimee blinks as Nick whips his head around because honestly, is Louis Tomlinson _spying_ on him or something?

_What the fuck! Where are you??_ Nick types furiously just as Louis shouts, “Boo!” and pops out from behind Nick’s chair. 

Nick yelps. This is actually worse than a scene from a horror movie. This is like his own _personal_ horror movie that he’s starring in, along with Louis. Christ. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Don’t you ever sleep?”

Nick honestly can’t even imagine what Louis is doing up and wandering around having lunch at two in the afternoon. He’d stayed well past his show this morning just to be there when the news about the raffle was sprung on Nick, for no reason other than to point and laugh and gloat. 

“”M’having lunch with Hazza,” Louis says, then crosses the table to kiss Aimee on the cheek. “Hello, love.”

“Hiya, Louis,” Aimee says. She’s grinning far too widely, one of her skinny, penciled eyebrows raised. Nick tries to catch her gaze before she does something stupid, but it’s too late. She’s already pushing a chair toward Louis and moving the plates over so there’s room for him to sit. 

Louis looks at Nick and smiles so wide his face looks like it’s about ready to split in half. Nick can only hope. 

“Aww, you’ve got room for us? I’d hate to intrude,” Louis says, plopping his arse down in the empty seat and dragging it closer to Nick. Nick narrows his eyes and stares. Louis grins brightly and reaches over to pluck the piece of cake Nick had dropped onto the table and pops it into his own mouth.

“Mmm,” Louis says, licking the tips of his fingers dramatically. “That was deeeeelicious.”

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Nick asks. He looks desperately around the dining room for anything that could help him: his waiter, Louis’ waiter, Harry. There’s no one. “I mean, it’s bad enough I had to see you this morning when I was getting paid to be at work, but to ask me to do it again when it’s my time off is cruel.”

“Nicholas Grimshaw,” Louis says. He wipes a phony tear away from his eye and presses a hand against his chest. “Are you not happy to see me? I’m hurt.”

“You’re a twat.”

“ _You’re_ an arrogant prick.”

“Well you’re a - a--”

“Oh god,” Aimee mutters. Nick sees her toss her napkin down from the corner of his eye, but he and Louis are too busy glaring at each other to pay it much attention. “I think I’m just going to--”

“Oh, _yay_!” 

Nick hears Harry’s voice before he has a chance to see him, but naturally, by the time he’s managed to look away from Louis’ pinched stare, Harry’s already stood behind both of their chairs, grinning brightly and patting them each on the shoulder. 

“Are we all eating together?” Harry asks, and before anyone has a chance to answer he says, “Brilliant! I’ll find our waiter and have him set us up over here. Be back in a tick.”

Nick groans. “Brilliant,” he mutters, and drops his forehead against his palm. 

He can see Louis beaming at him from the corner of his eye. “Brilliant,” Louis says, before reaching over to flick Nick’s ear. 

*

The auction goes on for a week, and Nick gets increasingly worried the more entries they get. He supposes he should be happy, and he _is_. He’s happy to be doing something good for charity, happy to be able to use whatever position he has to raise money for people who need it. The rest of the lads have been doing a great job at getting people excited about it, too. Zayn and Louis, in particular, make a point to talk about the raffle on their own shows more and more as the date gets closer. 

Of course, for any good press there’s always a price. 

_How many more times do I need to talk about you on my show before this is over? I’m getting a rash._

_How can you tell the difference, your whole face is a rash._

_Is that supposed to be a comeback? Your face is a rash? Is that something people used to say in the olden days?_

_I wouldn’t know. By the way, you’re short._

_That’s it? You’re short? That’s the whole insult?_

_Not an insult, love, just stating the truth_

So that’s a thing that’s been happening. 

_I can’t wait until next Friday when you pick the name of whatever poor sod it is that wins a date with you. I hope their address is included so I can send them a fruit basket in sympathy._

_You know, they say you only hurt the ones you love. Maybe you’re teasing me so much bc I’m amazing and you’re starting to fancy me_

_Sorry, can’t answer right now, too busy being sick in the toilet_

Nick sends Louis the smug moon emoji, the nail painting emoji, and the party hat emoji then powers off his mobile. 

*

The raffle winner’s name is Anthony Stark and Liam and Zayn think it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. Zayn had hung around the breakfast show to pick the winner from the bag of entries they received that morning, and then giggled like a madman when he read the name out loud on the radio. 

“Mate, if that’s your real name that’s sick, and if it’s a fake one that’s even sicker. Cheers,” Zayn had said, then backed up, smile bright and dark eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“You understand why it’s funny, yeah?” Liam asked Nick, and honestly, Nick loves Liam - he does - but the day he needs Liam to explain something to him will be a very hard day for himself indeed. 

“I do understand the humor, yes, Liam,” Nick says flatly. 

“Tony Stark,” Zayn says, actually slapping his thigh he’s laughing so hard. “Too bad for Perrie, or I’d have to go meet up with this bloke myself. Say my name was Steve Rogers or summat.”

Liam’s eyes light up. “Oh! Oh, Nick! You should do that! Tell him your name is Steve!”

“Or Clint!” Zayn adds. 

“Or Bruce!” Liam says. 

Nick waits patiently. “I mean, I would but the thing is, he already _knows_ he’s won a date with Nick Grimshaw, so--”

“Tell him your name is Thor!” Zayn says, then actually doubles over laughing. 

“Or Loki,” Liam adds, “And bring Andrew and say _he’s_ Thor! You get it? Because Loki and Thor are--”

“I’m leaving now,” Nick announces, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on as quickly as he can. He pats around looking for his keys and can still hear Liam and Zayn laughing to themselves. 

“He could say his name is Clark Kent,” Zayn says, sounding smug. “Really throw this Tony Stark guy off.”

“Superman is DC though,” Liam says slowly. 

“I know!” Zayn exclaims and the two of them laugh even more. “That’s the irony!”

Nick doesn’t even say goodbye. He just closes the door quietly behind him and leaves. 

*

“So a blind date, Nick. That’s so exciting. Are you excited?” Harry asks, sounding every bit the insufferable romantic that Nick knows he is. Nick rolls his eyes even though Harry won’t be able to see from the other side of the mobile but still. It makes him feel better to do it. 

“To go on a blind date with someone who goes by the name of Tony Stark? A date that they won through a radio raffle?” Nick fixes his quiff in the rearview mirror and rolls his eyes at Harry’s mumbling on the other end of the line. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve been on loads of blind dates before. How bad can this one be?”

“I just want you to keep an open mind, all right?” Harry says a little bit desperately. “I mean, sometimes...sometimes people seem one way but deep down inside they’re another way completely.”

“Mmhmm.” Nick barely listens to Harry’s chatter as he kills the car engine and stuffs his keys in his pocket. “I’ll be sure to give the Avenger a lot of leeway, all right?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s--” Harry huffs. Nick shakes his head and starts his way through the carpark. He’s known Harry long enough that he’s used to his fits and starts in a conversation by now, but this is ridiculous even for him. “Wait, what are you wearing?”

Nick grins. “Baby, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Piss off,” Harry says on a sigh. “Are you dressed nice at least?”

“My best Dr. Dre shirt and joggers,” Nick tells him seriously. 

Harry’s silent for a beat, then two. “I’m going to go with the idea that you’re having me on and that you’re actually dressed like a normal human going to dinner with another normal human.”

Nick just rolls his eyes. He heads inside the restaurant and wanders over to the hostess desk. “Two for Grimshaw,” he says quietly. The hostess smiles, picks up a menu, and gestures for Nick to follow her. “And I’m wearing my black velvet blazer and the dark red shirt Aimee picked up for me the last time she was in New York, just so you know.”

“Ooh, the one that’s kind of shiny?”

“Yes.”

“Black jeans or blue?” Harry asks.

Nick can’t believe this is his life right now. “Trousers, Harold,” he says sternly. “Do you think I’m some kind of fashion heathen? I mean, it’s a blind date through a raffle, but who knows, maybe the man of my dreams is waiting just around the corner.”

Harry laughs quietly in his ear, and the hostess stops a few steps later, moving to the side and gesturing to the table in front of her. It takes Nick a second to look up; he’s got to disconnect with Harry who’s still giggling at him for some unknown reason, and for as cool as he’s playing it with Harry, Nick is a bit nervous. Blind dates are always nerve wracking, but this one - where the person knows who he is and all about him but he knows nothing about them - definitely leaves Nick without the upper hand. 

He’s just going to go for it, Nick thinks. How bad can it be, really. 

With that decided he smiles to himself, lifts his head to see the man sitting at the table, and as soon as he does it’s like everything around him shuts down. There’s no other people in the restaurant. There’s no more noise. The hostess has drifted away and left Nick in this vacuum of reality he can’t actually believe is real. There’s no more air in the room even, because sitting there at the table, grinning at him like the slyest little fox, is Louis bloody Tomlinson. 

“No,” Nick says.

Louis beams and shoves the empty chair out with his foot. “Hello, love. Fancy meeting you here.”

*

Nick sits down, not because he wants to but because his legs physically can’t hold him up anymore with the way Louis is laughing at him. 

“But...” Nick looks around, trying to figure out what’s happening to him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m your date, Grimmy,” Louis says. He’s got his voice pitched low at least. The last thing in the world Nick wants is everyone around them hearing the insanity that he’s saying. “I won the raffle fair and square.”

“But. But--” Nick flaps his hands in the air. “But you can’t!”

Louis grins. “But I did.”

“But you work there! At the station I mean. Aren’t there rules?”

“It’s for charity,” Louis says and shrugs. He looks away from Nick and picks up his menu, scanning the inside intently. “I double checked, and as long as it’s something you pay money for anyone can enter, even employees. Matt said it was fine.”

“Matt knows about this?” Nick screeches. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, no. I asked him when the contest started, but I’m assuming he would have thought I’d have entered with my own name, not under a pseudonym.”

“A pseudonym. Tony Stark,” Nick says, and Louis beams. “Right, ok.” Nick rubs his hands over his face and presses his fingertips against his eyes. “Ok, so Matt doesn’t know. Do any of the other lads? Niall or Zayn or Liam?”

“Nope. Actually, the only one who knows is--” Louis says, just as Nick’s mobile blows up with a steady stream of text messages.

_Hiiiiiiiiiii_

_Are you inside yet??_

_Is everything ok?_

_DONT BE MAD HE MADE ME PROMISE NOT TO TELL YOU_

_I think this will be good though. Maybe you two can work out your differences_

_PLEASE DONT KILL HIM HES MY BEST MATE_

_AND ALSO DONT KILL ME EITHER. PLEASE. I LOVE YOU. HAHAHA BYE_

“Fucking Harry,” Nick says and tosses his mobile on the table. 

It goes quiet. For once, Louis doesn’t say anything, and Nick is honestly at a loss for what _to_ say. Should he excuse himself and get up? Should he stay and make Louis miserable? Why did Louis even want to try and win a date with him? And then when he found out he won, why did he go through with it?

“So…” Louis says, wiggling his eyebrows and motioning for the waiter to come over. “Cocktails?”

And fuck if Nick doesn’t need a drink or twelve right about now. 

“Yes, please,” Nick says. 

Louis smiles and orders them a bottle of wine. 

*

After dinner Nick calls them a car and has the driver take them to his favorite karaoke place. He’d planned on doing this anyway to show off a bit for his date; Nick’s plenty good at karaoke, and he’s not shy about letting people know it. And so what if his initial plan has been thwarted slightly by his date being the most annoying person Nick’s ever known. A date is a date, and Nick’s planning on doing this right. 

“My my,” Louis says, his perfect eyebrow nearly hitting his hairline when Nick steps out and holds the car door open for him. “Being quite attentive there, aren’t you, Grimmy? No matter what you’ve heard, I’m really not that kind of boy.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “From what I’ve heard you’re _exactly_ that kind of boy,” he mutters, and Louis grins sharply.

The bar is pleasantly crowded but not overly so. Nick gets them a spot to sit, orders them drinks, and then heads over to put in a few of his favorite songs to sing. Louis is watching him curiously. When Nick gets back he’s sprawled in his seat, eyes flicking over everyone else in the room, mouth curved in a slow smirk. 

“What?” Nick asks. 

“Nothing,” Louis says mildly, before standing and wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “Just going to head off to the loo. Be back in a tick.”

Nick sighs as Louis walks away. He expects at some point he’s going to have to admit that the night so far hasn’t been _terrible_. It’s not been _good_ , really, and it’s nothing he’d ever have expected to do, but it could definitely have been worse. 

_Haven’t killed your friend yet_ , Nick sends to Harry, then adds, _You, on the other hand, better watch out_

_I SAID I WAS SORRY. HE MADE ME PROMISE,_ Harry sends, then, _Did you laugh at least a little? Are you having any fun at all?_

Nick refuses to answer that. Instead he powers his mobile off and shoves it in his pocket. 

Louis is gone for a few minutes, so Nick makes conversation with the bloke tending bar and the girl who’s sat next to him. He’s just starting to wonder where Louis is and just what he’s gotten up to, when Louis gets back, grin toothy and stupid. 

Nick immediately knows something is wrong. 

“What?” Nick asks suspiciously. 

Louis holds his hands out. “Nothing!”

Nick narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Louis presses his hand against his heart and pretends to sob. “I’m crushed.”

Nick’s about to tell Louis how much he’d _like_ to crush him, when the announcer comes over the sound system and Nick listens to hear his name. 

“All right then, next up we’ve got my good friend, Nick Grimshaw!” Nick beams, waves to a few people who’ve noticed him and are now waving to catch his attention. “And good lord, Grimmy, I’m used to most of your usual picks, but this one is a good one.” And wait - what? He’d picked the same thing he always picks, what the hell is he--

Louis starts to giggle, and Nick’s stomach drops. 

“You didn’t,” he says, glaring murderously in Louis’ direction. 

“Oh, but I _did_.”

“Anyway, it looks like our friend Nick is taking us _allllllllll_ the way back and singing an oldie but a goody - kind of like Grimmy himself, yeah? - with Video Killed the Radio Star! Hope that’s not your way of letting us down easy, Grim! Not too sure what radio would do without you!”

Nick feels his teeth clench. He stares at Louis and mutters, “I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

“Just make sure you sing your song first, love!”

Nick does. He sings it, and he sings it bloody _well_. People are cheering and clapping along and no matter how many pictures Louis takes with his mobile, Nick’s just going to steal it from him and delete all the pictures later so who cares, really. When he’s finished he calls the announcer over and talks to him quietly for a minute. He’s barely back over to Louis when the microphone picks up again, calling Louis’ name out just like Nick had asked him to do. 

“Aww, did you pick something nice out for me, too?” Louis asks. 

Nick grabs his drink and swallows it in one long pull. “I picked out something _perfect_ for you,” he says, and leans back against the bar when Louis walks over to the microphone.

*

“I can’t believe it,” Nick says for possibly the thousandth time in the past fifteen minutes. Next to him Louis laughs, his head tipping over a bit onto Nick’s shoulder. Nick finds he doesn’t even mind by now. It’s been a long goddamn night. 

“I can’t believe I put in Taylor bloody Swift for you to sing and you fucking _smashed_ it,” Nick says. 

Louis beams. “I did smash it, didn’t I?”

“Who can sing that well to 22? It’s not even heard of. Are you an alien?”

“People love me,” Louis says simply. Nick rolls his eyes and tries to knock Louis’ head off from his shoulder. “I’m a darling.”

“You’re terrible,” Nick tells him, but it’s awful how much Nick doesn’t really believe it anymore. 

Because sure, Louis is annoying and spoiled and petulant and bratty. But so is Nick. Maybe Harry wasn’t so wrong when he said that the two of them would get along if they ever tried to. Not that Nick will ever tell Harry that; he’d be insufferable. 

It’s just - all of this; the dinner, karaoke, being with Louis - it’s all oddly not the worst thing Nick’s ever had to endure in his life. 

“This wasn’t terrible,” Nick says after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the street slipping under the tires of the car taking them both home. It feels like too much to admit, almost. As soon as the words are out, his tongue goes thick and he snaps his mouth shut before he manages to say anything more. 

Louis rolls his eyes and smiles, just a little, just the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. “I suppose it wasn’t the worst night of my life either,” he says quietly. 

*

Nick spends the rest of his weekend at home playing with Puppy and trying not to think about how he might not hate Louis as much as he’d always expected. It’s a confusing time for him.

Because Louis wasn’t _awful_ when they went out. He was actually kind of funny. Charming, even. 

And it’s not a secret that Louis is fit. He might be one of the twattiest twats Nick’s ever known, but Nick’s got _eyes_. He’s not _blind_. 

“Amazing,” Aimee says over the mobile. She’s snapping her gum in Nick’s ear, and it’s making him cross. 

“What is?” Nick huffs. 

“You being into Louis after one date. I knew it,” she crows. 

When Aimee texted Nick to ask how his date was, he’d described it as “shockingly not awful.” Nick’s not completely sure in what universe that means he’s into Louis, but according to Aimee now he is. He’s also had to dodge a frighteningly high number of texts from Harry asking how Nick was and if he and Louis got along and if it was as bad as Nick had expected it to be. Nick’s not too sure what to say to him, so he’s said nothing. He has no idea how long Harry’s going to let that slide, but he’s trying it for now. 

Finchy also texted him first thing Saturday morning, a string of smiley face emojis and exclamation marks that Nick deleted without answering. He’d also had messages from Ian, Niall and even one from Zayn. (At least Nick thinks it was Zayn. It was nothing but a long sigh and an exasperated chuckle left on his voicemail but it _sounded_ like Zayn.)

In fact, the only one who Nick hasn’t heard from, really, is Louis. Not that Nick wants to, or was expecting to, it’s just that...that maybe he had kind of a good time on their date. And maybe he was wondering if Louis did, too. And maybe Nick was curious what Louis was thinking about, if anything. Not that it matters. It completely doesn’t matter at all. 

Nick sighs.

“So sad,” Aimee clucks in his ear. “Poor Nick Grimshaw, sitting at home all weekend, pining away for his young, handsome, rival DJ boyfriend.”

“I hate you,” Nick says flatly. 

“You love me,” Aimee says, voice curling around a laugh. “You just hate the truth.”

“I hate all of the words coming out of your mouth right now.”

“Hmm. Is that because they’re the truth?”

“I’m hanging up on you now.” 

Aimee’s laughing at him openly, loud and bright. Nick hopes she chokes on her own stupid breath. “Love youuuuuuu.”

Nick disconnects the call and doesn’t answer his mobile for the rest of the weekend. 

*

When Nick gets into the station Monday morning, there’s a coffee waiting on his desk with a note scrawled across the cup in what Nick recognizes as Louis’ spiky handwriting. 

_don’t worry it’s not poisonous. probably ; )_

Nick stares at the cup. He pokes it with one finger and it seems fine. He picks it up and sniffs the lid. It _smells_ fine. He’s just about to touch the tip of his tongue to the lid when the door to the booth bangs open, and Matt pokes his head inside, grinning brightly. 

“Morning Grimmy.”

Nick flicks his eyes to Matt as he pulls back the top of the coffee lid and takes a small sip. When it tastes like nothing except coffee and he doesn’t pass out unconscious after taking another sip he sighs and puts it back on his desk. 

“Hiya, Finchy.”

“Something wrong with your coffee?” Matt looks at the cup and then back at Nick. He waggles his eyebrows. “Your new boyfriend seemed pretty pleased when he came by to drop it off earlier.”

Nick huffs. “Piss off.”

“Aww, but I think it’s sweet.” Matt’s come into the booth now, walking around and touching things on the board, fiddling with Nick’s files. Nick bats his hands away and drinks his coffee. It really is good, is the thing. Nick thinks possibly black magic is involved but whatever. It’s coffee at half five on a Monday morning. Black magic it is then. 

“Are you lads going to proper date now?” Matt asks. Nick feels his eyebrows pinch into a frown. “Hold hands at the station meetings and bring each other snacks and send each other kisses over the airwaves?” 

Nick wants to kick him in the dick. He really, really does. And he would, except for the fact that his mobile is buzzing with a text right there on the desk in front of him. 

_Are you enjoying your coffee? Did you believe me when I said it was fine to drink?_

Nick frowns. 

_I’m drinking it, yes._

_Amateur ; ) ; ) ; )_

“This bloody fucking wanker,” Nick mutters. 

“Ooh, terms of endearment,” Matt murmurs smarmily.

Nick grins evilly. “Uh oh, don’t look now but Niall is _right behind you_ ,” Nick says to Matt.

Matt jumps about three feet in the air, head spinning around and hand whipping up to fix his hair. “What? Where? He’s not, is he? Oh god, where?”

Nick slaps his leg and laughs. Matt glares and points a finger at Nick. 

“You’re an arsehole.”

“Yep,” Nick agrees. “Now go away.”

Matt huffs out, slamming the door behind him just as Nick’s mobile buzzes one more time with a text from Louis. 

_All joking aside, are you free for lunch today? Thought I could meet you at that sushi place Harry makes us all go to around noon?_

And oh. Um. Hmm. Nick scratches his head, because lunch is...well. This is unexpected. Because sure he’d been wondering what Louis thought about their date, but he wasn’t expecting _another_ one. He bites his lip and frowns. 

_I have to see what time I’m finished here_ , is what Nick finally decides on. He can’t answer this now. Not with Liam bustling in with his eager smile and Matt motioning furiously toward the microphone. This is just - this is a lot. Nick is unprepared for this. He has to think.

_No worries. I’ll be there if you decide to join me._

Nick turns his mobile off after that and slips the headphones on, fiddling with the dials until his hands stop shaking and his stomach settles. “ _Gooooood_ morning, everyone,” he says into the mic, and if his voice wobbles a little he really hopes no one can hear it. 

*

Nick thinks about it all morning, then finally decides that yes, he’s going to go to lunch with Louis. He has to, almost, if not for anything more than his own curiosity.

“Curiosity,” Aimee snorts at him over the mobile. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“Yes,” Nick huffs. “I’m curious. I want to see what he wants. What his angle is.”

“Sounds to me like his angle...is lunch,” Aimee says slowly. “Nick, don’t turn this into a thing, you know? Don’t like, sabotage the kid.”

Nick waves his hand in the air. “Pfft. Please. As if I would. I know _exactly_ what I’m doing.”

*

Nick has no idea what he’s doing. 

The sushi place is quiet, and he spots Louis as soon as he walks in the door. Louis is sitting towards the back of the restaurant, dark red hoodie zipped all the way up and his hair loose and falling over his forehead. He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and ratty trainers and when he sees Nick standing there he smiles quickly, his entire face lighting up with it. 

The problem is it’s a _genuine_ smile. Louis looks _genuinely_ happy to see him, and it’s just - Nick doesn’t know what to do or how to act. He’s completely thrown. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Nick says, after a too long beat of silence. He cringes a little when he realizes it echoes what Louis said to him the other night on their first date, and oh god, their _first date_. As if this is a second. As if he’s _dating_ Louis. Nick’s hands start to sweat, and he sits down heavily. Louis is still smiling at him from the other side of the table.

“It _is_ quite the coincidence, seeing how I invited you here and all,” Louis quips. He looks down and fiddles with the pair of chopsticks sitting on the table. The tops of his cheeks are flushed a warm pink. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come, actually.”

Nick is at a loss. He knows how to handle snippy Louis. And sarcastic Louis. And Louis who’s most likely sabotaged his morning coffee. But this Louis - this quiet, sincere, almost _nice_ Louis sitting in front of him…

Nick has no idea what to say to him. 

“Yes, well, apparently your luck ran out,” Nick says shortly. Louis looks up at him and something flashes quickly in his eyes but Nick keeps going. This is just what he does with Louis, and all right, maybe it’s a little shorter than Louis deserves right now, but Nick can’t think of how else to act. He doesn’t know how to do this any other way. “Or maybe it’s _my_ luck that ran out. After all, two meals with Louis Tomlinson in the past week? Who have I pissed off?”

Louis’ jaw tightens. “Who indeed.”

Nick chuckles, but it falls flat into the air between them. Louis is sitting up straighter in his chair. His eyes are sharp, and his jaw is locked and tense. Nick knows he could make it better. He could apologize; he could tell Louis that he’s sorry he’s acting like a twat. He could say that the idea of being on a date with Louis is making him act ridiculous - not because he doesn’t want to be there - but because of how much he’s just realized he _does_. 

Oh god. He wants to date Louis. He really does. What in the actual _fuck_.

“Are you quite finished?” Louis asks. Nick’s hands have started to shake, so he twists them together and hides them in his lap. “I thought we could possibly save the bullshit for another day and maybe have lunch together like two humans.”

This is literally his last chance. Nick can feel it. Louis is giving him a little bit more rope and it’s Nick’s decision to either let himself be pulled out of this nonsense by it, or let it choke him. He licks his lips and smiles. 

“Of course, we can have lunch together,” Nick says, and before he realizes his mouth is still going he adds, “I’ll just call someone over and see if they’ve got one of those kiddie booster seats for you so you can reach the table like the grownups do.”

The second it’s out of his mouth Nick wants to take it back. He actually watches Louis’ face shut down. His eyes go cold and hard. His lips curve into an irritated frown. Nick does open his mouth to try and take it back, but it’s too late. Louis has already stood up, the napkin from his lap falling to the floor, and his chair banging down hard. 

“I don’t even know why I bothered,” Louis says icily. Nick stands up and tries to touch Louis’ arm, but Louis pulls away as if he’s been burned. 

“Louis, wait--”

“No, you know what?” Louis is grinning now, a sharp, nasty grin Nick’s seen far too many times. “Nevermind.”

Nick doesn’t turn to watch when Louis walks away.

*

Louis doesn’t ring Nick or text him the rest of the day, and there’s no coffee waiting for Nick at the station the next morning either, threatening note or otherwise. The booth isn’t sabotaged. There’s not a snapping turtle left on Nick’s seat. And if the frustratingly normal way everyone is acting is any indication, Louis hasn’t spoken about him at all. 

 

Matt still huffs and frowns a lot, just like any other morning. Niall bounces into and out of the studio and laughs. Liam smiles his slightly dim smile, and Zayn ignores everyone like usual. No one mentions Louis to Nick or asks about their date, and why should they, really? As far as everyone is concerned he and Louis went out one time as the result of Louis playing a prank and winning a raffle. Nothing else. It’s not anyone else’s fault or business that Nick decided to go and get a whole bunch of rubbish feelings along with it, and then mess everything up with him and Louis in the process. 

Nearly everyone Nick knows leaves him alone, and Nick would take that as a sign, maybe use it as the jumping off point to try and rid himself of this ridiculous crush or whatever it is he’s got over Louis now, if not for one person. 

One frustratingly, irritating. smug, twat of a person.

_Niiiiiick, I’m so sad._

_: (_

_I’m upset with you._

_> : (_

_I really thought I could trust you._

_I thought you’d be a bit nicer about all of this._

_You’ve really disappointed me._

_Niiiiiiiick. Ring me baaaaaaack._

 

Nick waits until the end of the week, but when it seems like Harry’s just going to keep texting him sad messages and pitiful-faced emojis until the end of time, Nick finally answers him. 

_Honestly, Harry, what would you like me to do???_

It doesn’t take long for Harry to answer, and when he does it’s as ominous and vague as everything else he’s said recently. 

_I’ll be at your flat in an hour. Be there._

Nick waits to see if there’s anything else, but when Harry texts nothing but the thumbs down emoji at him, Nick sighs and heads home. 

*

Harry’s sitting in his car and listening to some awful sounding twangy hipster music Nick’s never heard before when Nick gets to his flat. Harry plays the most ridiculous things on his show, and this song is no different. Nick’s thought on more than one occasion that if it were anyone else trying to get away with playing hours of random unknowns all night long they’d never get away with it, but Harry somehow manages to pull it off. 

People love him, is the thing. He’s _charming_. No one could ever believe Harry Styles would do or say _anything_ rude to anyone ever. He’s just the nicest lad out there. 

Nick’s fairly sure none of those people are around right now to witness the truly murderous glare Harry’s leveling at him as he climbs out of the driver’s seat. Nick thinks he should maybe snap a photo. He could probably use this sometime in the future. 

“Hiya, H,” Nick says. He unlocks the front door and crouches down to scratch Puppy behind the ears for a minute while Harry walks in behind him. 

Harry’s quiet. Too quiet. When Nick looks up Harry’s leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows and face and mouth all scrunched into a frown. 

“Well, aren’t you the most unattractive frog in all the land,” Nick says dryly. 

Harry only huffs. He taps the toe of his boot against the floor - _tap, tap, tap_. He’s got on a fancy brown blazer with a white shirt that’s hanging so low Nick can nearly see the top of the moth’s wings on his belly. The scarf tied around his head is gold and green thread with actual tassels hanging from the bottom. 

“Nick,” Harry says, and oh, it’s the disappointed voice. Wonderful. “Nick, Nick, Nick.”

“Harry,” Nick drones. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

Nick stands up, and Puppy scampers away, possibly to slobber all over the tiny bag of dog treats Nick saw Harry slip to her when he first walked in. He turns so his back is to Harry and washes his hands in the sink before grabbing the kettle and filling it from the tap. “Tea?”

“Why did you do it?” Harry says. Nick drops his head. “I don’t understand. You really hurt his feelings.”

And honestly, Nick’s had quite enough. 

“Oh, please,” Nick snaps. He bangs the kettle onto the hob and lights it, taking small satisfaction in the way Harry’s eyes widen the slightest amount. “Quit trying to put all the blame on me here.”

“Well who else should I be blaming?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Possibly your twatty DJ friend,” Nick says, and oh. Fuck. Nick turns and jabs a finger at Harry’s chest. “Don’t say it.”

“I would never,” Harry says, holding his hands up in the air. He’s smiling a little now, at least, and not looking at Nick like he’s the worst human to ever walk the planet. After staring at each other for a few seconds, Harry shakes his head and sighs. “I just don’t understand. You had fun at dinner, right? I mean, I assumed your complete lack of communication last weekend was your way of not wanting to admit I was right so you figured you’d just not call me back.”

Nick hates it when Harry’s right. He closes his mouth and turns back to the sink, reaching into the cupboard to grab two mugs. “And Louis had fun, too,” Harry says, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Nick can’t ignore the bait. “Did he,” he says, trying not to sound as curious as he is. “Did you just figure that out or…”

“He told me,” Harry says. Nick puts the mugs down and glances at Harry from the corner of his eye. “Said, _Well, that was a lot more fun than I had expected_.”

Nick presses his fingers to the corner of his eyes. “Fuck.”

“You really hurt his feelings the other day,” Harry says softly. 

Nick bites his lip. “I just. I don’t know. I panicked I guess. I mean, he’s been pissing in my coffee for years. Literally! I’ve had multiple occasions where I’ve thought to myself: _Hmm. I wonder if Louis Tomlinson has actually weed in my coffee._ How was I supposed to deal with the fact that he’d invited me on a date.”

“A second date,” Harry corrects. Nick groans. “Did you ever wonder about that? If Louis hated you as much as you thought, why would he have gone out to meet you on the first date to begin with? And don’t say because it was a good prank,” Harry interrupts when Nick opens his mouth to answer. “A good prank would have been him sitting there and then leaving, Grim. Not staying with you the whole night. Not having fun on _your date_ the whole night.”

When Harry puts it like that, well. There’s really no other way to say it. Nick feels like a tit.

“Let me ask you something, and just answer yes or no, all right?”

Nick sighs. “Did you read this in one of your hipster “get in touch with your inner feelings” books?”

Harry smacks Nick on the side of the head and narrows his eyes. “Did you have fun when you went out that night?”

Nick huffs. “Possibly.”

“Did you think about Louis over the weekend after that?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Might have.”

“Do you think he’s fit?” Nick goes to shake his head, and Harry pokes him in the chest. “Answer the question, Grimmy. And don’t think I haven’t realized you’ve avoided saying yes to everything so far _even if_ yes is what you really mean.”

And argh. “Fine,” Nick says through clenched teeth. “I’m not bloody blind, Harold. Of course your idiot friend is fit.”

Harry folds his arms over his chest and glares. “Now pretend that you just met Louis that night. That it really was an _actual_ blind date. What would you have thought?”

Nick thinks about it. He’s been thinking about it all week, actually. 

Then he sighs. Long and overdramatic. Kind of like his life recently.

“I’d have possibly thought he was fit and fun and funny,” Nick says quietly. Harry yelps and claps. “And I’d have maybe - _maybe_ \- wanted to see him again. Fuck.”

“What do you mean _fuck_?” Harry crows. “This is great!” He’s shaking his head and Nick hears a quiet jingling sound. 

“Are there _bells_ hanging from that scarf?”

“Never mind that,” Harry says, flapping his hands in the air. “This is more important. You have to go to him, Grimmy! Go there now! Go admit that you’re in love!”

“No,” Nick says flatly. “I’m not doing that. You’re going to have to think of something else.”

“You’re right,” Harry says, scratching his chin. “You show up there now and tell Louis you love him and, well, he’ll probably punch you in the face.” Nick blanches and Harry grimaces. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re right.” Nick drags a hand through his hair. “Fine. All right, what should I do?”

Harry’s grinning so brightly he looks almost psychotic. Nick stares at him closer and squints. “Are there _tears_ in your eyes, Harold? Are you going to _cry_?”

“I’m just really happy, ok?” Harry sniffs and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “And ok. All right. Here’s what you’re going to do.”

*

Nick’s stood on Louis’ front stoop with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He’s been standing there for a minute or so at least, trying to muster up the courage to knock, and it’s just not working. 

Because what if he knocks and Louis opens the door and sees it’s him and then slams the door shut in his face? Or worse, what if he lets Nick in and listens to what Nick has to say and then says something to the effect of, “while that’s all really nice, please take your horrible face away from my flat forever because I hate you?” That might be even worse than the door slamming. Maybe. It’s kind of hard for Nick to tell. 

In the end he doesn’t need to make a decision because the door opens as he’s standing there, Louis frowning at him from the inside of the house with his mobile clenched tightly in his hand. 

“Harry said you were probably out here,” Louis says flatly, and Jesus fuck, _Harry_. 

Nick rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, Harry also said I should _sing_ to you, so Harry’s not always to be trusted, yeah?”

Louis blinks. His eyes are wide and blue and he’s just so _pretty_. “He said you should what?”

“Sing to you,” Nick says dryly. “He said it would be ‘reminiscent of when we went out’.”

“You’re--” Louis licks his lips and leans in the doorway. “You’re not going to _do_ that, are you?”

“Fuck no,” Nick tells him. 

Louis looks relieved. “Thank Christ.”

Nick nods. “Harry’s ideas are terrible.”

“It’s true,” Louis agrees. “I mean, should we really be listening to someone who wears those kind of bandanas?”

“The one he had on today had bells on it,” Nick says. 

Louis rolls his eyes so hard Nick’s afraid he might actually fall over. Nick smiles. “He um. He did say I should come over and apologize though, and I’d really like to do that.”

Louis stares at him, gaze heavy and unblinking. Nick curls his fingers into fists and digs them deeper in his pockets. Louis is quiet for so long Nick thinks that this is it, Louis is going to tell him to sod off and Nick can’t blame him, really. At the last second though Louis pushes the door open.

“I guess not _all_ his ideas are terrible,” Louis says and waits for Nick to follow him inside. 

*

Louis’ house is a pit. It’s honestly one of the messiest homes Nick’s ever set foot inside. It’s crowded with furniture, there are clothes strewn all over the place, and there’s far too much superhero merch to fit into such a small space.

“Sorry. If I’d have known I was going to be graced with your presence I’d have not cleaned up even a little bit,” Louis says shortly. 

Nick sighs. He’d expected Louis to be cross with him. He even feels like he deserves it a bit. Nick’s going to try, though. It’s the least he can do. “No, it’s fine. Very homey.” He steps over a pair of dirty trainers and an empty pizza box. “I love the lived-in look.”

“Oooh. Goody. I have Nick Grimshaw’s approval,” Louis sneers. “I can die happy.”

Nick reaches out and curls his fingers around Louis’ wrist, stopping him from walking away. Louis turns around and lifts his chin. He’s staring at Nick defiantly, but Nick can see right through it. 

“Don’t do that, Louis.”

Louis sniffs. “Do what?”

“Don’t act like a tit just because I did,” Nick tells him. Louis’ jaw is tight. Nick can see a muscle ticking under the skin. “I came here to apologize. I acted like a twat, and I’m sorry for it.”

Louis looks down. Nick pulls him a little closer, and Louis stumbles but he goes, tripping over his feet a bit until he’s only a foot or so away. 

“Well. You are pretty much a knob,” Louis says. He kicks at Nick’s foot then steps on it with his own. He’s wearing slippers that look like stuffed moose heads. Nick shouldn’t be this endeared by it. “I don’t know why I was surprised, really.”

Louis looks up, smiling when he says it, and something twists deep in Nick’s belly. Louis’ cheeks are pink, his face is smiling and happy. He’s got sharp little teeth and a wet tongue, and when he licks his mouth and then looks up into Nick’s eyes, Nick’s gone. 

“Oh, fuck it,” Nick says and kisses him. 

Louis’ mouth is soft ,and he stretches up so he’s pushed closer to Nick’s body. His hands flit over Nick’s shirt, tugging on the bottom and twisting it in his fingers, and he bites Nick’s mouth, teeth digging into Nick’s bottom lip. Nick can’t stop. He can’t make himself go easy or be gentle or any of the other things he promised himself he would do if he got to kiss Louis when he came over here. He kisses him fiercely, desperately, like every single thing in his chest is bursting open with how good it feels to have Louis in his arms, standing on Nick’s toes, rocking up into him and kissing him back just as crazily. 

“Is this your idea of an apology?” Louis asks, panting hard against Nick’s mouth. 

Nick blinks. “Yes?”

“Good job,” Louis says, then laces his fingers with Nick’s and pulls him down the hall.

*

Louis’ bedroom is just as messy as the rest of his flat, with even more clothes covering every available surface. The shades are pulled down though, and even in the late afternoon it casts a dark glow on the room, sunlight peeking in only from around the edges of the blinds. 

Louis keeps kissing him, tugging his hands through Nick’s hair and pushing him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. 

“Sit,” Louis orders. 

Nick falls back, bouncing a little on the mattress. “Woof.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, grinning at Nick as he yanks Nick’s shirt up and over his head. 

“Ooh, so hairy,” Louis says. He drags the tips of his fingers through Nick’s chest hair and yanks. “I do like the caveman look.”

“At least I’m old enough to _have_ chest hair, love,” Nick answers. It comes out a little more choked than he’d like it, though, because Louis is leaning in, biting at Nick’s nipple and palming his dick through his jeans. 

“Be quiet or I won’t blow you,” Louis chides, and ok, yes. Quiet is fine. 

Nick bites down on his tongue when Louis drops his head, kissing his way down Nick’s belly, all the way to the waist of Nick’s jeans. Nick’s already hard, has been since Louis took his tiny little body and started shoving Nick around his flat with it, and isn’t that something Nick never really knew about himself. Apparently he has a penchant for short, snappy, obnoxious DJ’s with smart mouths who like to boss him around when they get cross. Good to know. 

Not that Nick knows much of anything anymore, because Louis is opening his jeans, slipping his fingers over Nick’s dick and then rubbing the head over his soft, sweet little mouth. Nick bites back a groan and tilts his head back. Maybe if he stares up at Louis’ bedroom ceiling he won’t come from just the feeling of Louis’ tongue and teeth on his cock. 

Louis’ mouth is amazing. He sucks on the head of Nick’s dick, licks over the side and wanks him off slow with his hand while he’s doing it. His other fingers are digging into Nick’s thigh, pressing up and behind his balls, and it’s an embarrassingly short time before Nick pulls on Louis’s hair to warn him he’s going to come. 

Louis pulls off and blinks at Nick. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed and mouth wet. Nick drags him closer and kisses him, tastes himself on Louis’ tongue and comes all over Louis’ fingers as he wanks him through it. 

“Fuck,” Nick pants against Louis’ mouth. “Holy fuck that was--”

“Are you going to do me now, or should I call in for outside assistance?” Louis snaps. He’s smiling as he says it; a tight smile that fades when Nick reaches down and shoves his hand into the front of Louis’ trackies. 

Louis goes blessedly quiet after that, head hanging down and mouth slack. Nick works him over with his fingers, tugs him quick and sure until Louis is gasping against Nick’s shoulder, mouth open and wet where he breathes against Nick’s skin. 

“Fuck,” Louis gasps, “I’m going to come.”

 

Nick grins. “That was kind of the idea,” he says, and it’s amazing, really, hearing Louis laugh as he spills over Nick’s fingers, body quivering against Nick’s when he comes. 

They’re both quiet after that. Probably the quietest they’ve ever been since the day they met. Nick’s worried for a split second that things are going to be weird between them now, but when Louis looks up at him he quirks an eyebrow, and his lips curve into a smile. 

“You owe me some clean laundry, Grimshaw,” he says. 

Nick shoves him back playfully and pretends to be shocked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve gotten my favorite pair of trackies dirty.” 

Nick shakes his head. “By giving you an orgasm!”

“ _Giving me_. Ha!” Louis _tsks_ quietly. “I bloody well _earned_ that orgasm. Don’t act like you were doing me some kind of favor.”

Nick opens his mouth to argue, but winds up laughing instead. “Oh god. Harry’s going to be _awful_ about this, isn’t he?” Nick says instead.

Louis smiles and leans in to kiss him. “The absolute worst.”

*

Nick’s mobile buzzes approximately five hundred thousand times that night, and when Nick never answers then Louis’s starts in, too.

_Nick!_

_Niiiiiiiiick_

_: )_

_Did things go all right?_

_Did you sing??_

_DID YOU TELL HIM YOU’RE IN LOOOOOOOOVE????_

_> : (_

_Are you ever going to answer me back?_

_I’m going to try Louis._

_All right, I’m going to assume that since neither of you are answering that things went well._

_I’M GLAD._

_I’M SO HAPPY.._

_I’m - oh wait! I have a text coming in!!_

_NICHOLAS GRIMSHAW DON’T YOU EVER SEND ME A PICTURE LIKE THAT AGAIN. MY FUCKING EYES. AND TELL LOUIS I HATE HIM TOO. WHAT THE FUCK I NEVER NEEDED TO SEE THAT. CHRIST._

_Anyway, I hope you two disgusting pigs are happy with together. You deserve each other._

_Jerks._

 

-end


End file.
